


Summer of Truths

by Cherry_Coco_Berry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry_Coco_Berry/pseuds/Cherry_Coco_Berry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to certain circumstances arising, Malfoy is sent to live with Harry and his relatives. While there, truths are uncovered and secrets revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series or characters. The only things I own are my ideas.  
> Everything you need to know about this story should be in the summary and tags, but incase you didn't check...  
> WARNING!: Child abuse, Child neglect, some Violence, and Blood. You have been warned, read at your own risk.

Draco Malfoy, heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, did not like Harry Potter. He was a conceited, arrogant, insufferable prick and should have died as a child. Well, maybe he didn’t dislike him that much. The point is, he annoyed Draco and he most definitely did not want to stay with him over the summer, thank you very much. Of course, that didn’t dissuade Dumbledore, blasted Headmaster.

Professor Snape--his godfather--had, even with his intense dislike for Potter, thought it would be safest and agreed. Apparently, it wasn’t a good idea to decide not to follow the Dark Lord like his parents had. Now it was too dangerous to stay most places and the only place safe enough was with Potter and his Muggle relatives.

Dumb Potter, he was making him miserable without even having to lift one spoilt finger.

* * *

Harry was not a happy camper. The amount of food his Aunt Petunia gave him lessened and he had to finish an impossible of chores in little time. Another problem was the Hogwarts owl sitting on a branch outside of his window. It had been there for the past two days and couldn’t get in because of the bars over hIs window. The letter was clearly important, but it was just of of his reach. The solution to his problem seemed obvious, just go outside, but he hadn’t been assigned outdoor chores. Yet.

His Uncle was home, the slam of a car door alerted him to that fact, and he had just finished with that day’s chores; washing dishes, making lunch and supper, dusting, mopping, sweeping, cleaning the windows, getting groceries, weeding the yard, mowing the lawn, pruning the flowers, and planting a garden that would make the neighbors jealous. It had been the first chance he had had to go outside since the beginning of summer--at least a week ago-- and he took full advantage of it. The owl had swooped down to meet him as soon as he was out of sight of the house and deposited the letter into his outstretched hand. He had quickly skimmed through it, making note to warn Uncle when he got home--if he was in a good mood.

The owl had flown away and he had stuffed the letter into a pocket in his five-sizes-too-big pants. If Aunt caught him carrying proof of his “freakishness” she would hit him over the head with whatever she was holding. He had finished the rest of the chores quietly, using small bits of wandless magic when it wouldn’t be noticed. That was another thing that had happened, wandless magic. He had discovered that, to use wandless and wordless magic, he only had to visualize what he wanted done and will it to happen. He knew he could use it to escape from the Dursley’s, but strong wandless magic might be traceable by the Ministry and he didn’t want to be expelled.

As soon as he set the food on the table--mouthwatering roast pork, green vegetables, and baked potatoes with gravy--Uncle had opened the door. He squeezed through the doorway and sat heavily in his chair, breathing in the scent of food with a grunt that might have been acknowledgement. He knew that he was in a good mood, he hadn’t been injured yet, and it might be his best bet to say something now.

“Uncle?” he asked quietly and waited for the ‘What, Boy?’ that would mean that he can continue. When it came, he wasted no time in speaking. “A letter from the Freak school came today, it said that one of the students was in danger and that they had to stay here because it was safer. His name is Draco Malfoy, his-”

A slap cut off what he was going to say, the blow whipping his head to the side.

“MORE FREAKS!” Uncle shouted, “What right do they have to give us another burden!? One was enough!”

Harry opened his mouth, but a sharp blow to his gut had him doubled over and gasping for air. His Uncle, seeing the distraction, wasted no time in kicking him and sending him sprawling on the ground. A kick to the side of his head made stars appear and another had him at the brink of unconsciousness. Uncle saw how out of it he was and aimed for his ribs in stead. A few sharp kicks to his ribs had him coughing up blood and it was only then that his uncle stopped.

“Clean this up, Freak,” he said and laughed as his nephew struggled to stand. The boy opened his mouth and said something about money. Intrigued, he allowed him to talk for a moment.

“The Malfoy family, they have loads of money and,” he knew this would help his Uncle Vernon to agree, “their son that’s staying the summer hates me.”

The rotund man laughed a dark laugh and grabbed the freak by his hair, dragging him to the cupboard under the stairs. The door opened with a creaked and he was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground.

“Enjoy your new room, Freak. Our esteemed guest needs a nice, clean room to stay in and you’re going to help. You start in the morning.” With those parting words, his Uncle kicked him into the tiny cupboard and locked the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Draco to arrive and spend his first day at Number Four Privet Drive, but things don't go the way he expects them too and it looks like someone needs help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cries* I still don't own Harry Potter.

The next few days passed by slowly for Harry, who was dreading the day Malfoy would arrive. At least he knew that he would be treated well. Even though he wasn’t his favorite person, he shouldn’t be treated how he was. He hadn’t had a proper meal in days and was becoming hideously thin. His bruises stood out in sharp contrast to his paper white skin. The sunlight didn’t seem to be helping him, it only made him warm and his aches more painful.

Uncle had decided that if Harry misbehaved at all during the guest’s visit he would be punished, more than he was being now at least. Malfoy would arrive sometime the next day and Harry was to be inside the cupboard until he knocked on the door. After that, he would be let out to show the guest around the house and to his room and answer any questions.

The next morning, he woke in his tiny, cramped cupboard, feeling the spiders crawl down his legs. It was a great way to start the morning, much better than being hit. He laid there for a while relaxing in the feeling of calmness before he got bored and started playing around with his wandless magic. He made a wind blow a tiny spider back and forth and lit a small fire in his hand. Eventually, this got boring too. The minutes ticked by and, finally, he heard a knock at the door. The door to his cupboard was opened and he was pulled out roughly by his hair and pushed toward the door.

* * *

The days had passed by slowly for Draco. He was dreading the day he would go and live with Potter, the prick had probably turned his relatives against him already. He knew that he was going to hate his visit, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

The day he had to leave Grimmauld Place was a dull one, not particularly different than any other day aside from the fact that he would be leaving. Once his bags were packed, he head to Severus. He was the one who was going to apparate him outside the wards of Potter’s house.

When they arrived, his Godfather told him that they couldn’t contact other wizards. He could write to Severus, but only once a month. If he sent anything else, it would have to be an emergency. Personally, Draco thought they were going a bit overboard, but he wouldn’t say no to being pampered.

He let his eyes sweep over the muggle town they were in as he heard the crack of disapparation. It was dull, every building the same as the last, no creativity anywhere. It was as if they had to conform. It was sickening. With forced arrogance in his steps, he walked to the Potter brat’s house-- Number four Privet Drive.

He knocked on the door, barely managing to conceal the disgust on his face. Potter was the one who opened the door and welcomed him into his home. He was given the grand tour of the house before being led to a door with a half a dozen locks on it and a cat flap. The horror must have been written all over his face because he was assured that they had always been there, they hadn’t been put there specifically for him.

The room was nice, he had a plush bed and a desk with what he assumed was a muggle device called a desk lamp. Harry had left after that, claiming he had to go help his aunt. Draco had snorted when he walked out the door, he had been told that the other boy’s relatives treated him like a prince. He had probably wanted to go and goof off with some annoying friends of his and hadn’t wanted to seem rude. Whatever, he didn’t care so long as he didn’t see him more than he had to.

At least an hour went by before Potter had called him down for breakfast and he was grateful, an hour without the prick was practically a miracle. He went into the kitchen area and froze, unadulterated disgust marring his features. Potter’s...relatives...sat around the small table, each more unappealing looking than the last. What Draco assumed was his cousin was rotund, fat rolls covering his body; he looked like he hadn’t heard the word “exercise” in his life. His aunt was the exact opposite with a bony frame that had a distinctly horse-like look. Compared to the whale of a man next to her, she was downright skinny. The last man, the Uncle, was enormous. Layers of fat fell around his lap and the sides of his chair. With that and his many chins, he wasn’t sure how the tiny chair stayed whole. It was repulsive, no wonder Potter wasn’t in the room.

Moments after the thought, the very person waltzed in. Four expensive china plates were set on the table before pans upon pans of breakfast foods were piled high. If he hadn’t seen Potter’s cousin and uncle, he would have thought they were expecting more company. A chair was pulled out for him, by whom he wasn’t sure, and he sat down. Potter moved to stand by the wall between the kitchen and where they were seated, making no move to grab any food or anything to drink. It was confusing. Why wouldn’t he sit at the table--not that Draco wanted him to, but shouldn’t he sit with the rest of his family? Whatever. He was going to ignore that fact and focus on eating something from the array of food overflowing the table.

The meal went as he had expected for the most part, they made polite small talk throughout the meal and he avoided looking at his tablemates as best as he could. They seemed overeager about something, especially Potter’s Uncle Vernon. When the breakfast was over he decided that he may as well explore the area he was expected to live in. He wandered the house first, examining every picture and room. The house was clean and dust-free and everything looked like a cookie-cutter house should. Except for the cupboard under the stairs. He had expected it to be like the other cupboards in the house, full of cleaning or cooking supplies, but it wasn’t. Inside was a small, worn down cott along with a thin sheet littered in holes and what looked alarmingly like specks of dried blood. It was clear that someone lived in there at one point. It was a sad and disturbing thought.

He silently closed the door and walked up to his temporary room, hoping that whoever lived in there would be okay. It wasn’t his house and for all he knew it was a room either Potter or Dudley had liked to play in when they were little. Still, he would keep an eye on it because other reasons for the blood were a lot less nice sounding.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're down here reading this, I guess you read the story. I hope you liked it, reviews and constructive criticism are welcomed, flames aren't. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
